


Seunghyun’s Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Birthday!

by puckity



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Cake and Sex, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-13
Updated: 2010-03-13
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puckity/pseuds/puckity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something about TOP’s birthday is wrong. Three-cakes-unfixable wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2010 for TOP's birthday. This was a stylistic homage to those old choose-your-own-adventure books.
> 
> Self-beta'd.
> 
> You can also follow me on [Tumblr](http://puckity.tumblr.com/).

“Eat.” Jiyong shoved the box across the counter.

“No,” Seunghyun caught it open-end first and flicked the stray icing off his fingertips. “Thanks.” He slid it back towards Jiyong.

“But it’s Tous Les Jours. From Korea.” Jiyong quirked an eyebrow for emphasis. “And it’s _cake_.” He sent the box back again, this time with a bit more force.

Seunghyun’s hand thudded against the cardboard top. His smile stretched thin and cold. “I already had cake. Two cakes actually. The mochi thing at dinner and the one before that, the TV one that you let children decorate.”

“Hey! I did those decorations!” Standing a few feet from the counter, Seungri cut in to defend his design skills. Youngbae, positioned behind Jiyong, shot the magnae a strange wide-eyed look and quickly shook his head.

“Are you saying you don’t _appreciate_ the birthday we prepared for you, hyung?” Jiyong’s head cocked to the left and his gaze hardened. A vein of stress and hurt tinged the edge of his cool, calculated tone.

“No.” Seunghyun sighed and his jaw twitched. Then without warning his fist came down hard against the marble countertop. “Fuck! Can’t I not want cake for once? Why the hell do I have to eat _three different cakes_ on my birthday, Jiyong? Because of your stupid ‘perfect party plan’? Shit!” Seunghyun looked around frantically—even he seemed surprised by the outburst. Frustrated and floundering, he turned and stomped out of the kitchen area towards the front door.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Jiyong followed without hesitation. Youngbae and Seungri took several steps back to clear his path. “Don’t you just walk away from me!”

Seunghyun half-turned—twisting his chest and head towards Jiyong—with his jacket shrugged off his shoulders. “Out.” He pulled his jacket up all the way. “I’m going out.”

“Like hell you are!” The door slam did nothing to deter Jiyong. He grabbed his sweatshirt and followed Seunghyun. His threats still echoed faintly in the apartment from down the hallway.

“What,” Seungri’s small voice broke the silence. He blinked in confusion. “What just happened?”

Youngbae scratched his head. “Well, we’ve all been under a lot of stress lately. And Jiyong—with his solo album and promotions and all those _other_ news stories and everything—has probably had it the worst.” Seungri glanced at him sideways, not buying his casual tone. He added hastily, “And Seunghyun-hyung still gets a lot of pressure about his diet, especially with ‘IRIS’ now.”

Seungri nodded slow but anxious lines still marked his face. Youngbae pulled at the edge of his T-shirt, stretching out the already puckered fabric.

“You wanna go downstairs to my apartment and watch a movie? I’ve got ‘G.I. Joe’ and I know you like that girl in it…” Youngbae elbowed his arm lightly. Seungri looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Okay, hyung!” His sudden smile was lopsided and it made Youngbae’s cheeks simmer. “Does it also have explosions?”

“I don’t know—probably?” Youngbae shrugged and pushed Seungri towards to door. “Let’s get out of here in case they come back.”

The door clicked shut and Seunghyun’s apartment was silent except for the slightly labored breathing coming from the corner couch. Curled up on it since they’d gotten back from the birthday dinner, Daesung finally opened his eyes. His bandmates’ words rang in his ears. Harsh, strained, with something sharp and bitter and hollow growing between the lines and in the middle of it all he’d been forgotten. It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t quite remember what.

He hadn’t been asleep before, but suddenly he was exhausted. He closed his eyes again.

\---

The scattered laughter and stumbling steps caught Youngbae’s attention just before Seunghyun and Jiyong, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, burst through the front door of his and Daesung’s apartment. They seemed to be giggling at the effort of walking, which Youngbae had to admit was pretty amusing. They swerved into the wall, the counter, a corner, and the wall again before finally making it successfully to the living room.

“Welcome back, you two.” Youngbae greeted them softly and with a hint of caution.

“Yeah—welcome back!” Jiyong repeated it enthusiastically but looked as though he wasn’t completely sure where he was. Seunghyun stood next to him swaying, his hand still casually holding onto Jiyong’s sweatshirt sleeve. After a second or two, Jiyong’s eyes started to focus on the television screen. He stepped towards it and away from Seunghyun in a daze.

“Are you…are you watching ‘G.I. Joe’?” Jiyong turned to Youngbae and then seemed even more confused, finally taking note of the figure cuddled against him.

“Yeah, but I haven’t really been paying attention to it.” Youngbae reached for the remote and muted the volume.

“You hate action movies. You said they are, and I quote, ‘mindless entertainment dumpsters’.” Jiyong’s voice wavered. “You wouldn’t go see ‘G.I. Joe’ with me in the theater last year.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to _pay_ to watch it. I got the DVD in a promotions bag.” Youngbae cleared his throat awkwardly. “Seungri likes action movies.” As if he could tell someone was talking about him Seungri pressed closer to Youngbae’s body heat.

Jiyong’s glanced between Seungri’s oblivious, slightly stupid sleeping face and Youngbae’s pink face that was strategically avoiding him. He puffed out his cheeks.

“Seungri!” The authoritative bark coupled with a few loud claps made both Youngbae and Seungri jolt. “Up, up, time to get up! We’re going back to our apartment! Youngbae needs to go to bed—alone.”

Seungri squinted up at the commotion, shook his head in a weak denial and wrapped his arms around Youngbae’s hips. Youngbae squirmed uncomfortably while the magnae valiantly attempted to ignore everything that wasn’t sleep.

The situation seemed to sober Jiyong. He marched towards the couch, grabbing a stray pillow on the way, and started smacking Seungri with it. It was, they all knew, his usual wake-up method. Caught off-guard, Youngbae tried to simultaneously stop Jiyong’s plush assault and escape any errant hits himself. Seungri whined, swatting ineffectively at the air.

“Hey, guys.” Startled at the reminder that there was still someone else in the room, Youngbae and Jiyong froze while Seungri continued to wave his arm pathetically. They looked to where Seunghyun was leaning crookedly against the wall.

“Where’s Daesung?”

Youngbae and Jiyong exchanged momentary guilty glances.

“He’s not here,” Youngbae’s ears flushed a darker shade of apologetic pink.

“He was sleeping in your apartment, hyung.” Jiyong paused. “Before we…left…”

“—him there.” Seungri mumbled and finally stopped flailing. Youngbae and Jiyong winced.

Seunghyun nodded as though he’d just been looking for reassurance. The two non-sleeping members watched from the couch as Seunghyun turned and made his way to the door, not quite walking straight.

There was a beat of calm, then Jiyong was swinging the pillow again before the latch clicked shut behind Seunghyun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fluffy version of what transpired on Seunghyun's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings.

Seunghyun stood there, staring stupidly down at Daesung’s sleeping body. Sleeping in his apartment. In his room. In his bed. Despite his previously silly behavior, Seunghyun hadn’t actually drunk that much alcohol with Jiyong. But what he had drunk now sloshed around his head, making his thoughts and feelings all fuzzy.

He didn’t like watching Daesung sleep nowadays. Not that he did it often, but when he did he didn’t like it. It used to make him happy, like watching a baby or a puppy sleep. Especially if he was drunk. He used to tiptoe exaggeratedly into Daesung and Seungri’s room back in the hostel and do his best to block out the magnae’s snoring. Sometimes if he was extra brave (or extra drunk) he’d reach out and touch Daesung—his face, his hair, his hands hanging off the edge of the bed. Seunghyun never questioned it. It made him happy and he didn’t need more of a reason than that.

But now he hated it. Now Daesung slept more than ever, seemed tired all the time. He’d nap in the car or on unoccupied couches or just fold his arms and put his head down and Seunghyun always fought the urge to shake him to make sure he could still wake up. When Daesung slept Seunghyun only saw white sterile sheets and bandages and smelled sharp antiseptics and his stomach churned so much he had to close his eyes or it would overwhelm him. There were so many ways that Daesung’s smile, Daesung’s eyes, Daesung’s silliness, Daesung’s joy could disappear. There were so many ways that _Daesung_ could disappear and now that was all Seunghyun could see.

When he did watch, Seunghyun hated what he saw. The smile that slipped more and more these days, the laugh that fell flat—it all melted away. And Seunghyun’s suspicions and fears about the ‘healed’ Daesung were confirmed by the contours of pain, the highlights and shadows that exposed the nightmares he’d always deny the next morning.

It made him angry. Watching Daesung force himself to be happy, smiling for the cameras and joking around. Then going home and sleeping because, Seunghyun guessed, at least he didn’t have to smile in his sleep.

Today especially, it had made him angry. Made him fight with Jiyong about nothing, about _cake_. Fight on his birthday after thoughtful handmade presents and a thoughtful group dinner. Fight because Daesung was asleep again and Seunghyun was the only one that cared.

At the bar, Jiyong bought his drinks. Seunghyun said sorry and Jiyong said he knew but he didn’t really. None of them knew. Not even Seunghyun. Only Daesung knew. Sleeping, always sleeping Daesung.

“Hyung, do you want your bed?” Daesung spoke clearly but his eyes were closed. The alcohol whispered to Seunghyun that he must still be asleep.

“I can get up and go to my own apartment.” Seunghyun shook his head faintly, not sure why he was answering a sleep-talking Daesung.

“Then are you just gonna watch me like that all night?” Daesung shifted. “Because, to be honest, it’s a little creepy.”

Seunghyun shook his head again, this time more for himself. Then he reached down and began shaking Daesung’s arm and shoulder. “Wake up.” Like he was talking to a child, slow and loud. “Daesung, you are talking in your sleep!”

Daesung opened his eyes and glared at Seunghyun. His face scrunched in irritation and he jerked away from the unnecessary movement. “Hyung, what are you doing? I’m awake—I’ve been awake this whole time.” Seunghyun shook him once more then paused to process the statement.

Staring up at him but making no move to get off the bed, Daesung arched his eyebrows. “You’re drunk.”

“No,” Seunghyun stated simply. “I was drunk.”

“Whatever.” Daesung rolled onto his side, away from Seunghyun. “Did you go out clubbing with Jiyong-hyung?”

“We diffused our tempers, that’s all.” Seunghyun stood up and watched him again, willing Daesung to turn back to him. “Did you hear us fighting?”

“Everyone in the building heard you fighting.”

Seunghyun resisted reaching out and touching his back, just to reassure himself of its warmth. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh.” Seunghyun blinked away the wetness in his eyes. He blamed the alcohol and the long day and the fight and everything but Daesung for turning him into a wreck. “You sleep a lot these days, huh?”

“I guess.” Daesung’s tone was a flatline that buzzed in Seunghyun’s ears. “We’re just busy now, so I’m tired.” Seunghyun sniffed and suddenly Daesung turned back over again.

“Hyung, are you crying?” The question sounded like an accusation and Seunghyun scoffed even as he wiped at his cheeks.

“No, I just—there was something just, suddenly, that got in my eye.” Daesung looked unconvinced. He added for good measure, “And I think I might be getting a cold. Maybe H1N1.”

“That’s not funny.” Daesung rolled his eyes. “Anyway, why would you be crying? It’s your birthday—you had a good birthday right? Better than last year anyway.” Daesung laced the final sentence with sticky meaning.

“Yeah, yeah.” The room was suddenly stuffy. Seunghyun unbuttoned his jacket. “It was great. Except the fight.”

Daesung shrugged. “You know leader-hyung gets sensitive when people insult his creativity. That cake thing was kind of a low blow.” He closed his eyes to remember, then chuckled. “I did like the implication that Seungri had the decorating skills of a child though.”

Seunghyun chuckled too, but not for the same reason. For a moment Daesung’s face was clear and free and so beautiful he had to laugh or else he might start crying again. After their laughter died the atmosphere went thick with quietness. Seunghyun watched Daesung and Daesung watched him back.

Daesung finally coughed like the weight of the silence was choking him. “I didn’t get you a present.”

“Neither did Seungri.” The magnae had claimed the cake concept to be a gift in and of itself, as well as the choreographed happy birthday dance. Daesung ignored the counterpoint.

“What do you want?”

What do you want. There were so many answers, _too_ many answers, and Seunghyun almost let them tumble out like emotional vomit. The question, he thought, should be what do you want _most_? He knew that answer too, but held his breath before he let it go.

“I want you to be happy again.”

Even in the dim light, Seunghyun could see Daesung’s face contort like a mask being ripped off. He sat down on the edge of the bed and Daesung sat up too, rigid and mechanical. Seunghyun’s fingers rested on his arm and Daesung flinched. His hands twisted and untwisted themselves.

“I don’t think I can give you that, hyung.” Daesung paused heavy. “Not right now.” Seunghyun watched the twisting and nodded, letting his fingertips traced down and capture one of those nervous hands.

“I know.” Seunghyun’s chest constricted sharp and tight. He talked to Daesung’s wrists. “I can accept an IOU.”

Daesung stared at him and Seunghyun could feel the things he wasn’t saying.

“Hyung.” Seunghyun looked up and practically fell into Daesung’s kiss. It wasn’t their first kiss and it definitely wasn’t their best, but Seunghyun’s heart beat hard at Daesung’s tart taste and clumsy style. It was frantic and lazy and Seunghyun thought that he could spend the rest of his life kissing Daesung like that, but then again he always thought that when they kissed. Daesung pulled back but Seunghyun wasn’t ready to stop.

He gathered Daesung up in his arms like a pile of blankets and held him, nuzzling his face into the crook of Daesung’s neck. After a while, he felt hands clasp around his back and lips press possessively against his hair. Then just a whisper in the hush.

“Happy birthday, hyung.” And Seunghyun had to agree; it finally was.


	3. 'SCYOAB' (NC-17 Ending)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smutty version of what transpired on Seunghyun's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains darker themes and BDSM elements. I tried to portray everything in a respectful and realistic way.

Seunghyun stood there, staring stupidly at Daesung like he hadn’t really expected him to be there at all. In his apartment. In his room. Back against the wall, the dim light catching all the rough angles of his stance and the hard glint in his eyes. Despite his previously silly behavior, Seunghyun hadn’t actually drunk that much alcohol with Jiyong. But what he had drunk now sloshed around his head, making his thoughts and feelings all fuzzy.

Daesung’s nose twitched. “You’re drunk.”

“No,” Seunghyun stated simply. “I was drunk.”

“Whatever.” Daesung’s words were clipped. “Did you go out clubbing with Jiyong-hyung?”

“We diffused our tempers, that’s all.” Seunghyun shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled at the lint trapped in the seams. “Did you hear us fighting?”

“Everyone in the building heard you fighting.”

Seunghyun’s eyes dropped to Daesung’s knees. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I wasn’t.”

Seunghyun didn’t quite understand the relief that diffused through his body. “I thought you’d be sleeping now.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.” Daesung was in a strange mood and Seunghyun never knew what to do with him like this. He couldn’t lead; Daesung would shut him down fast. He just had to wait and follow. He counted the seconds in his head and listened to the faint whirling of his laptop fan on the other side of the room. At thirty-seven counts Daesung spoke.

“Strip.” Seunghyun shouldn’t have been surprised, not anymore, but he was. Just a little. He tensed and Daesung saw it.

“Please strip, hyung.” He amended the order but to Seunghyun it sounded the same.

He wanted to protest, refuse, deny. Or at least slow down. It was his birthday and he wanted change. He wanted nervous, warm, tender. He wanted—but that wasn’t part of the deal. The deal was that Daesung wanted and Seunghyun got and they both craved it even when they hated it. Seunghyun unbuttoned his jacket and Daesung watched each plastic circle slip from its hole. Seunghyun tossed it towards the dresser but it didn’t make it.

His blazer got a bit farther and almost knocked over his toy robot pyramid. He paused with his belt; it landed on the bed without Daesung’s prompting. He popped one, two, three buttons and let his pants collect at his ankles. He could have been teasing and put on a show but that wasn’t the point. This wasn’t foreplay, just business.

T-shirt and boxers and he always stopped here. Always asked the same question.

“Can I keep my shirt on?” Always got the same answer.

“Nope.”

Seunghyun sighed but it wasn’t the same. In the beginning it had been embarrassment, now it was just resignation. Up and over his head and he let it drop wherever it wanted to.

He hesitated at the elastic waistband. Always did and he thought he always would. It would never not be awkward, especially not with Daesung just standing there and daring him not to. He yanked down but they took more wiggling than his pants and tangled at his knees. He had to step out of them delicately like he was avoiding tripwires, one leg at a time. He bent down and reached for his socks.

“No,” Daesung started and Seunghyun looked at him for the first time since he’d taken off his jacket. “That’s okay.” Seunghyun didn’t straighten. “It’s almost winter and I know your feet get cold.” As he stood back up Seunghyun thought he saw a shadow of that huge gorgeous smile flit over Daesung’s face.

Seunghyun put his hands on his hips and smirked, trying to coax happiness out of him. “So you’re gonna fuck me in just socks?”

“You can take them off if you want.” Daesung’s lips held their thin, hard line.

“No, you’re right.” Seunghyun dropped his arms and they hung heavy. “It’s a little chilly tonight.”

Daesung’s eyes swept up and down Seunghyun’s body but they never lingered. He was just sizing things up. There was no affection in it, no adoration. There was desire but not for what Seunghyun was, only what he could be. There was lust too but Daesung blinked it away because that wasn’t part of the deal. It made things too personal and too complicated and Daesung just wanted—just needed—simple. Nothing else was simple anymore so this had to be or else what was the point?

“Will you kiss me?” Daesung looked at him as though he’d just started speaking calculus.

 _Stupid._ Seunghyun grit his teeth at his own weakness but smiled over it. “It _is_ my birthday.”

Daesung blinked and walked past him to the bedside stand, picking up the belt along the way. He didn’t say anything but Seunghyun knew he was supposed to follow.

“I…um…I think I lost the blindfold. And the scarf. Or maybe I left them in Korea. I’m not really sure.” Seunghyun apologized to Daesung’s back.

“Then I knew I kept that airplane complimentary kit for a reason.” Daesung turned around, a dull green eyemask stamped with the airline logo in one hand and the belt and Seunghyun’s mp3 player in the other. Seunghyun studied them like mismatched pieces to a puzzle. When he made his second request he wasn’t looking at Daesung.

“I don’t want to use the mp3 player tonight. I want to listen.” He couldn’t see it but he imagined Daesung shrugged. The player clattered back onto the nightstand and Seunghyun winced because he’d just bought it a few weeks ago.

“Hands first.” Seunghyun held out his wrists. He liked it like this because after he was tied up Daesung would have to touch him. It was a loophole they both pretended that they didn’t see.

Belts weren’t the best. They were tough and slippery and left a hell of a friction burn if things went on too long but their special scarf was missing-in-action and neither of them wanted to stretch out a different, useful fashion one. Daesung wrapped twice and wove a knot, pulling hard and knotting it again for good measure. Seunghyun watched quietly, glad it wasn’t real leather.

“Try it.” Daesung let his hands go. Seunghyun twisted and pulled but nothing moved. He nodded and for a second their eyes met and Seunghyun flushed from his thighs to the back of his neck. Then Daesung pressed the mask over his eyes and hooked it behind his ears. Seunghyun felt his fingers curl around the shell, adjusting the straps so they wouldn’t bite into his skin.

“Go to the bed, hyung.” Daesung sounded so close now, much closer than Seunghyun knew he was. Things that had just been hanging limp before began to tighten.

He shuffled cautiously, kicking aside anything that hit his feet and trying not to grope blindly ahead. It was the least dignified part of the whole thing and sometimes Daesung would just blindfold him on the bed out of pity. But not today. His shin hit the bed frame and he hissed.

He climbed up and sat on his knees, waiting, listening. He never got to do that. He listened to one zipper then another, then a rustle and a plop. Another rustle and a light grunt. He listened to a cleared throat and a cough, and breathing. Long and stretched thin but still vaguely melodic. And then soft padded steps and the weight on the mattress shifted.

Palms and fingertips around his waist repositioning but it was the first real touch and Seunghyun swallowed down a mouthful of air. He knew the pose but still waited for Daesung to direct him. Elbows on the pillows, knees down, ass up. Daesung’s hand against the back of his neck, coaxing his forehead to the mattress. Not quite there, but almost. The hand dragged down his back and up again. The second time Daesung used his nails and Seunghyun bit down on the tip of his tongue.

It had been a while, Seunghyun realized. He couldn’t even remember what the scratches looked like from the last time. He’d almost forgotten that he had Daesung written all over him and that’s why he needed reminding. Just like Daesung needed reminding that he was still alive, that life kept going on even after his had stopped on that slick highway. Sharp pricks of pain and pleasure and the foolish hope that they’d never forget again.

Daesung’s hands left and Seunghyun assessed himself. His back stung in lines and his legs folded back down, muscles temporarily relaxing. Pressed between his thighs and his stomach Seunghyun was hard and it surprised him every time. He wanted more—caring, sweet, complicated. He wanted his body to ache from love and not control. He wanted to not crave this like he did. He ground subtly against himself but Daesung caught him.

A smack against his ass that hit Seunghyun’s ears harder. “No cheating.” Daesung sounded like he was all around him. Hands urging his hips again. “Up.”

Long fingers wet and icy; Seunghyun knew where they were going but they took their time getting there. Slipping between his asscheeks and Seunghyun gasped because his body was so hot and Daesung was so cold. It was too much lube but Daesung liked making him change the sheets afterwards.

Two fingers inside when one alone would hurt to start. Seunghyun wasn’t ready and he whimpered into the mattress. Daesung pressed to the first knuckle and then slowly pulled one out. The other hit the second knuckle and flexed. At the third knuckle it twisted and Seunghyun whimpered louder.

Daesung’s finger went deep but purposely avoided that spot, that big red button inside of Seunghyun with all the arrows pointing to it and signs saying, ‘Press Me Now’. Seunghyun took a few shallow breaths and willed his muscles to relax and let Daesung push just a little further and—

Out and back in with two fingers already a knuckle and a half deep and Daesung had tricked him again. They stopped there and spread out and Seunghyun fought for every centimeter but still lost. Short nails on the free hand dug into Seunghyun’s shoulder blade and distracted him enough to win. Daesung always won.

Nothing was cold now. Everything crackled and burned and Seunghyun’s wrists started to rebel. The belt squeaked, echoing the sentiment. Dull bursts of some unidentifiable color popped in his darkness.

“Touch me.” Just a whisper Seunghyun didn’t want heard. But the fingers stopped and pulled out and those were the rules. Seunghyun hated his lack of self-control but he’d get what he wanted now.

Cold and hot and blunt and insistent against him. Hands on his shoulders pushing him down and pulling him up and spreading him apart and it hurt—it always hurt—but Seunghyun wanted it so much he was shaking. The color bursts intensified.

For a second, maybe less, Seunghyun wondered what it would have been like before. Before the accident, before the change, before Daesung had to relearn what he was and pretend like he’d never forgotten. It would be slow and fond and slightly awkward, Seunghyun decided, and complicated but Daesung would trust him enough to know that he’d take care of things. Take care of him. Take care of them. Daesung would let him see and hear and touch and Seunghyun wouldn’t feel so empty afterwards. But that was just a daydream, a color burst too bright and Daesung pushed in hard and deep.

Hands splayed around Seunghyun’s side and Daesung realigned. Now that they were here it was almost over, no point in teasing. Daesung hit that spot without restraint and Seunghyun fingers contorted. Thrust, hit, thrust, hit, thrust. No rhythm just frenzy and hollow lust. Seunghyun wasn’t crying but the colors and darkness began to blur together.

Panting in a round robin and Seunghyun didn’t know who was who. He was dizzy, suffocating on nothing but the force of Daesung and his anger, his fear, his pain. Their pain, together now. Seunghyun would drown in pain if it kept Daesung afloat.

Force that Seunghyun also craved, separate from the pain. Force and control flooding him and he wanted to drown in that too and drag Daesung down with him. He just needed some help, just a little help.

“Dae…please touch me…” Force pounding against him and into him and his hands braced themselves as much as they could on the headboard.

“Shit, Daesung!” He growled through clenched teeth. His darkness was so bright he had to be going blind.

“You wanna come, hyung?” Sugar dripped off that voice, rotting Seunghyun’s resolve.

He hissed low and long. “Yessss…”

Daesung was all around him. Not just in his mind, in his darkness; Seunghyun could feel him. Hovering just above his back, heat pulsing between them. Heavy breath along the crook of his neck. A hand, firm on his head pushing down and Seunghyun bit the covers so he wouldn’t scream. And liquid filth out of that mouth that no one would ever believe even knew those sorts of words existed.

“So fucking come already—” And Seunghyun did. Cursing into the cotton and clawing at the pillow and shuddering, sweating, a heady buzzing swimming around his brain. On his way back to the surface he felt a hitch in Daesung’s final, brutal thrusts and that was it. Daesung was with him now—inside, outside, sticky and clinging to him even as Seunghyun finished his own spasms—and his darkness seemed to go on forever but that was okay now.

It wasn’t cuddling, just clean-up. Daesung’s heartbeat steadied and he reached over Seunghyun to untie the knots. Then he was away, gone, the weight had shifted again and Seunghyun worked the belt off. The dim light in the room came back to him all at once and he sat there for a minute dazed, all squinting eyes and sore wrists and a dull ache at seeing he was the only one left in the room. Daesung had gone to the bathroom to wash up and hadn’t waited for him. He never did.

Daesung came back to find Seunghyun in his boxers and t-shirt again, already stripping the bed. He stood by for a moment then moved to help but Seunghyun shooed him away.

“Sorry we messed up your bed, hyung.” Daesung was always quieter and mildly apologetic after they finished. Seunghyun shook the pillows out of their cases and didn’t look up.

“No you’re not.” He glanced at the mess all around him, then at the clock, then back to the mess.

“I’ll just sleep on the couch tonight and take care of all this tomorrow.” He hadn’t really said it for Daesung; sometimes he just liked to make plans aloud because it made him feel important. But Daesung must not have known that because when Seunghyun turned towards the door he was right there in front of him. Seunghyun rocked back on his heels.

Daesung looked at him—looked through him, into him and out of him. Seunghyun thought maybe he was going to throw him onto the pile of sheets and start all over again. But he just looked, like he’d noticed something about Seunghyun for the first time. That flush crept back up Seunghyun’s spine and he was glad he’d already put his shirt back on.

It was the last thing Seunghyun expected—a kiss. Up on his toes, short and light and tickly, fingers slipping through the cracks in Seunghyun’s fists and those violent bursts of color behind his eyes but this time without the darkness. Daesung pulled back slowly, gently and looked one last time. Then he buried his face against Seunghyun’s jawline and squeezed Seunghyun’s clenched hands and breathed out of his nose in a warm rush.

“Happy birthday, hyung.” And Seunghyun had to agree; it finally was.


End file.
